


may this song reach your heart

by cherrydior



Series: the greatest city in the world [1]
Category: Neo Yokio
Genre: Alcohol, Hair-pulling, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by a video i saw on tumblr, Kissing, M/M, Rated mostly for language, and it’s a day late but oh well, blink and you miss it reference to lexy/gottlieb, now featuring toblerone jokes, this is basically just something dumb and silly i wrote for valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 04:56:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrydior/pseuds/cherrydior
Summary: “hey.hey i’m coming over.i’ll bring u a toblerone. ;)where do they have the really big ones?(besides casa di corelli ayyyyyyyy)jk i found them 20 mins.”





	may this song reach your heart

**Author's Note:**

> so uh. this is a thing that happened.
> 
> and instead of posting all my old stuff that needs to be archived, i post the one for a meme anime lmao
> 
> shoutout to the people on the neo yokio discord who saw this in the early stages, and to my usual alpha/beta readers, one of whom dragged me into this fandom, and the other who i dragged in. love you all xoxoxoxo

i. the one where arcangelo corelli has a youtube channel

“It’s me, ya boy, Gucci Jesus, the blond ichiban, the —”

“They know who you are, Arcangelo,” Kaz interrupts, unimpressed.

“Yes, and it’s my vlog, let me live,” Arcangelo responds pleasantly. “As you may have noticed, my little archangels, today I have a special guest! Number two on the bachelor board, noted magistocrat, Caprese Boy, and my personal homie, Kaz Kaan!” 

“What, are you inviting everyone to guest on this thing now?”

“Nah, I just like you,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “So, what’s good, Kazzy K?”

“I was going to talk about fashion week, but then I saw this video on Twitter this morning, and now that’s all I can think about,” Kaz laments. 

Arcangelo leans in closer, intrigued. “What video could possibly distract you from fashion week? It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”

“It’s literally the worst, like, so much for discussing floral themes in the new collections! Instead, I get a tutorial on hair pulling running through my head on repeat. I don’t even _like_ getting my hair pulled!”

“You don’t say,” Arcangelo says slowly. “That’s an important life skill, Kaz. In fact, I bet my viewers would love that topic. Care to demonstrate for us?”

He blinks, nonplussed. It’s just the two of them in a recording room. “What, on you?”

“You scared?” Arcangelo asks softly, twirling a strand of blond hair around his finger. “That’s alright, I’m sure it must be intimidating, me being a much better kisser than you—”

Kaz interrupts with a bark of a laugh. “No, I’m pretty sure that if this works half as well as it did in that video, this is gonna win me back the top spot on the board.” He scoots his chair closer to Arcangelo’s, and looks him in the eyes for a moment before facing the camera. “So… hair pulling, right? What you guys are gonna want to do is start with a flat hand, and run it up the side of their head like so.” He runs a hand through Arcangelo’s hair, then pauses. “Your hair is really soft.”

“I deep condition every week,” he explains breathlessly.

“It’s nice,” Kaz says vaguely, then shakes his head. “Right. Uh. Flat hand up… then you make a fist.”

Arcangelo cries out, eyes fluttering shut, and Kaz releases his grip immediately. 

“Oh, shit, did I actually hurt you?”

 _“Fuck,_ ” he manages after a moment. “Okay, I’m, like, in love.” Arcangelo props himself up on the desk, hand resting on his chin, and bats his eyelids like an ingénue in an old movie.

Kaz snickers despite himself and gestures to him for the camera. “So, apparently that works. On him, anyway. So, then you’re supposed to, like, nibble on the neck-ear-jawline area? Like…” He gestures vaguely on himself. “Right here, and… well, we’ll see.” 

Kaz tilts his head, evaluating. His right side would probably be easier… he brings his hand up and gently strokes Arcangelo’s hair — which really is ridiculously soft — before tangling his hand in it and making a fist. The other man’s pupils are blown wide, the green irises barely visible, and Kaz can’t hold back a smirk. He tilts Arcangelo’s head to the side and darts forward, gently but purposefully kissing and nibbling his way up Arcangelo’s neck as though it were a seduction — which it is, sort of. Except not really, because this is _Arcangelo Corelli_ , it’s not like they’re seriously attracted to each other or anything. It’s for educational purposes, and to prove a point, and nothing else.

Although, like this, surrounded by Arcangelo’s excellent cologne — probably bespoke, Kaz thinks vaguely, because he can’t place the scent — and his _responsiveness_... well, it’s not the worst makeout session of his life, to say the least.

“Ah! Hah… oh… _fuck_ , Kaz…”

A shaky hand slowly winds itself in Kaz’s own hair, pulling him closer, and okay, yeah, he needs to get out of his own head for once in his goddamn life and put a stop to this before it gets out of hand. 

He makes himself pull away, barely managing to turn and look at the camera before he’s being pulled back in, for a proper kiss this time, and _oh_. 

Okay.

This is fine.

Just guys being bros.

...Yeah, fuck it. With a mental shrug, Kaz gives in and kisses him back, because Arcangelo is surprisingly fantastic at this. Without his permission, Kaz finds his arms wrapped around Arcangelo’s shoulders, and his body no longer on his own fucking chair, and _oh, okay,_ he knew he was bisexual but _Arcangelo_ , really?

Eventually, Arcangelo breaks away, and they stare at each other in near silence. Kaz is still trying to comprehend the fact that, well… that just happened. And he actually wouldn’t be opposed to it happening again. What the fuck is his life.

Arcangelo recovers first, laughing nervously as his hand goes scrabbling across the desk and frantically grasps a remote, pressing a button. “Well, that just happened! Uh. I’ll record something else later, I didn’t think —”

“Fuck the vlog,” Kaz manages to get out.

“Wh—” 

But before he can finish, Kaz kisses him again. Turns out there is, in fact, a very simple and effective way of shutting Arcangelo up. Who’d have thought?

 

ii. the one where kaz kaan has an emotional crisis

 

The late afternoon sun shines brightly through the windows, waking Kaz up, and he’s very confused by this for about half a minute before he remembers. _Oh, right. Not his apartment._

He rolls over to avoid the glare, but it’s too late. He’s already awake. Instead, he frowns at the other person in the bed, who was clever enough to have pulled a pillow over his head and as a result is still happily snoring away. (Not that Arcangelo snores, not really, it’s more of a soft breathing sound and it’s actually kind of cute, not that he’d ever say that out loud —)

It’s just… surely this was just a weird mistake, right? So they tried to record a video and accidentally ended up sleeping together. Twice. Could’ve happened to anyone.

So the sex was spectacular. That doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like two guys can’t hook up without falling in love. Happens all the time. It’s fine.

(Kaz resolutely does _not_ think about the way Arcangelo looked at him. It’s. Fine.)

Besides which, up until three hours ago, Kaz would have generously called Arcangelo a “frenemy”. That guy who you don’t necessarily like, but grows on you if given half a chance. Like mold. And who keeps being nice to him now for no good reason, in spite of the restoration of the bachelor board. 

And that’s another thing: they’re the top two bachelors in Neo Yokio. They can’t just… 

(Can they?)

Kaz groans and pulls a pillow over his head.

...A silk-covered pillow. Why. Why is he like this.

Kaz is well aware he’s overthinking everything about this entire situation, but at the same time? He really can’t deal with any of this right now. He quietly slips out of the obnoxiously comfortable California king bed, steals a pair of Versace trousers and a cashmere sweater out of Arcangelo’s walk-in closet — which are a bit long on him, but will do well enough for a walk of shame — and catches a cab back to the west side. Charles definitely doesn’t need to know about this; he’ll never hear the end of it.

On the other hand, he could use some advice…

 

Kaz ends up at the Caprese Bar, where Lexy and Gottlieb take one look at him and kick out their one customer.

“You look like you need a drink,” Gottlieb says.

Kaz shakes his head. “You have no idea.”

Lexy pours a round of caprese martinis and looks at him expectantly.

Kaz downs his entire drink, slams the empty glass on the bar, and says, “Arcangelo Corelli has a silk sheet set.”

Lexy snorts. “Figures.”

“And how, exactly, do you know what Corelli’s bedroom looks like, Kaz?” Gottlieb teases him.

He laughs nervously, suddenly extremely interested in the ceiling tiles. “Yeah, uh, about that…”

“That old-money fuckboy’s been in love with Kaz for years, B, where the fuck have you been?” Lexy asks, amused.

“Yeah, no shit, I’m not _actually_ blind, but since when does Kaz like him back?”

“...Years?” Kaz asks faintly, and they both shake their heads at him in disappointment.

“Since Easton, bro,” Gottlieb says gently, patting him on the shoulder. “Get out of your own head every once in a while. Next you’ll be telling us you didn’t know me and Lex are dating.”

“Come on, I’m not that oblivious,” Kaz protests, mildly offended. “But… Arcangelo? He was always such an asshole, there’s no way! I mean, now, maybe, but...” He glances between the two of them, but they both look dead fucking serious. “Oh, god, you’re dead fucking serious aren’t you. This whole time?”

“He’s been doodling hearts on his notebook while gazing adoringly at the back of your head and practicing signing Arcangelo Corelli-Kaan when he thought no one was looking, yes,” Gottlieb says matter-of-factly.

“Fuck,” he says faintly, slouching on his barstool. “My whole fucking world view has been turned on its head. I don’t understand anything anymore.”

“What happened?”

Kaz shakes his head. “I need a drink. I need all of the drinks.”

 

“And at no point did any of this seem strange to you?” 

“Well…” Kaz hesitates. “I mean, it’s Arcangelo. He’s just… like that?”

“He’s like that with _you_ , B,” Lexy says patiently. “Remember when he tried to annoy you into wearing matching midnight blue tuxedos to the black and white ball?”

Kaz’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “Remember when he _did what now_.”

“That’s exactly what he did today, except this time it worked,” he continues.

“Okay, no, go back — _that’s_ what that was about? I can’t take any more surprises today, you guys.”

Gottlieb steps in. “The point is, Kaz, everyone except you knows he’s been in love with you forever, and then you come in here and tell us you slept with him, but it was just guys being bros? What, did you fuck and run, too?”

“I… okay, in my defense, though —”

“Kaz!”

“I don’t fucking know, you guys! I panicked! I’m still panicking! And since when are you on his side, Gott? You hate him!”

“Since you’re being even more of a dumbass than you usually are, and that’s saying something! Like, that’s incredibly shitty of you. Man up and face your hookups for once in your life. I’m not saying make him pancakes, but that’s just cold!”

“I know, I know! I just…” He trails off, chewing morosely on a mozzarella ball. “I can’t like _Arcangelo_ , you guys! I can’t! Like, can you imagine? What are people gonna say if one morning everyone wakes up and suddenly Freddie Miles is topping the bachelor board for once in his life because _I’m dating Arcangelo fucking Corelli_?!”

“It’s about damn time?” Lexy deadpans. “Seriously, bro, no one’s going to care.”

Kaz sincerely doubts this, but doesn’t have the emotional energy to argue the point. “Okay, and what happens when we break up? He’s catty enough as it is, he’ll be intolerable after a breakup and I’ll still have to see him all the time!”

Gottlieb raises an eyebrow. “Assuming he’ll let you break up with him.”

He considers this. “You’re not wrong,” he says thoughtfully. And, if he’s being honest with himself, that’s kind of a selling point for him. He’s sick of breakups. But… it’s _Arcangelo_. “Do I really want to take the chance of being with _him_ for the rest of my life, though, is the thing.”

“Fair point.”

“He’s an East Sider, Aunt Agatha will kill me,” he laments, then pauses as something occurs to him. “Or else I’ll cement my status as favorite nephew by publicly allying with the Corellis. Get us a bit of leverage with the founding families. Depends what mood she’s in.”

“Your family is fucking weird, bro,” Lexy says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, and Gucci’s overrated, what else is new?” Kaz says with a dismissive shrug. “Course, if he ends up annoying the everloving shit out of me and I blast him all the way to New Jersey…”

“Then he’ll have deserved it, and nothing of value will have been lost,” Gottlieb says flippantly. 

“Does anyone, no matter how obnoxious, deserve —” he shudders — “Jersey?”

“Does Arcangelo Corelli, fuckboy extraordinaire, deserve exile to Jersey? Absolutely! Imagine being able to go out and not see him everywhere! There’d be peace and quiet in Bergdorf’s for a change. What a fucking concept. Sign me up.”

“But exile to a vast sprawling hellscape of outlet malls and minivans? No one deserves that shit, you guys. And, I mean, he’s not _that_ bad. He has his uses.”

“Uses you can’t get from anyone in Neo Yokio with a Grindr account?”

“What Grindr hookup is gonna bring me a peppermint latte while I’m home sick on Christmas Eve? Or crash a car into an underwater tunnel going top speed just because I asked him to? Answer: _literally no one_.”

“So date Arcangelo, then,” Lexy suggests dryly.

“Maybe I will!” he says heatedly, then pauses. “Wait…”

“You’re welcome.”

“For giving me a migraine?” 

“Kaz. You just defended Arcangelo. _Vehemently_. What does that say to you?”

He mulls this over for a moment before reaching a conclusion. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, burying his face in his hands. 

“Good luck with that, bro,” Gottlieb says, patting him on the shoulder. 

“But I don’t _wanna_ like Arcangelo,” he whines, sprawling forward onto the bar. 

“Who would?” Lexy quips.

They sit in silence for several moments before Gottlieb speaks up.

“Is this a problem we can fix by getting blackout?” he offers.

“I wish,” Kaz sighs, then looks at his watch. “I should probably go home, anyway. Thanks, you guys.”

He waves goodbye, and calls for Charles as he exits the tiny bar. Being with Lexy and Gottlieb, at least, won’t raise any questions.

 

iii. the one with the start of something new (or something long overdue, depending on who you ask)

 

“For the last time, Charles, I’m fine,” Kaz protests as he heads for his room, shedding layers as he goes. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Which is precisely how I know something is wrong, sir,” Charles replies blandly. 

Honestly, the mechabutler isn’t wrong; normally, he’d take any opportunity to complain about anything and everything. Kaz is a devoted disciple of the art of complaining, and if there isn’t anything to complain about, he’s fully prepared to invent a problem. But, well… “It’s not that something’s _wrong_ , exactly, except it _is_ , but just in the sense that it’s _weird_ and I don’t know how I feel about it yet, so I’m going to… contemplate? Ruminate? Meditate?” Kaz pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “And if Aunt Agatha calls, I’m not home.”

“Very good, sir.”

With a sigh of relief, he slips inside, firmly shutting the door behind him. He feels like the past day has lasted about three thousand years, and his bed has never looked so inviting. He can’t even be bothered digging up proper pyjamas, instead opting to simply leave Arcangelo’s stupid, too-long trousers on the floor and curl up under his duvet in the sweater and his boxers. 

A short buzz near his ear has him reaching out of his cosy nest to grab his phone, and he suddenly remembers — oh, right, Arcangelo. Arcangelo, who, in spite of Kaz’s current confusion, probably deserves at least some sort of explanation. 

Except he’s really, _really_ not sure what, exactly, one is supposed to say in a situation like this. “Hey, sorry I accidentally rode your dick into the sunset and then promptly fucked off”? “So, I know we’re sort of rivals and I’m not really sure how I feel about any of this but apparently I’m _really_ not opposed to you helping me figure it out”? “Your bed is ridiculously comfortable and it’s mine now and you can’t stop me”?

Okay, definitely not that last one.

After a lot of typing and backspacing, he eventually sends a text that simply says: “had to leave, something came up” before turning his phone off, a fluttery feeling lingering in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t want to see the response, whatever it’s going to be, whenever it gets sent, and just thinking about it is making him uneasy. 

Kaz groans, pulling the blankets back over his head. How did this become his life?

 

He’s not sure how much time passes, curled up in his dark and warm cocoon, but eventually there is a gentle knock at the door. 

“What, Charles?” he calls, poking his head out from under the duvet.

Except, he finds out as the door opens, it’s not actually Charles knocking.

“Kaz?” Arcangelo says softly, closing the door behind him. “I brought you a big Toblerone. And a latte, unless you don’t want it, in which case the latte is for me.”

“Charles let you in? I have got to get a new mechabutler,” Kaz grumbles, but there’s no heat in it. 

“Wow, okay, I see how it is. I text you that I’m coming all the way from the East Side to bring you the glorious gift of my presence, and also a Toblerone, and this is how you thank me. I’ve gotta tell you, Kaz, I’m not feeling very appreciated in this relationship.”

Oh, right, he turned his phone off. “I did not see any texts,” Kaz admits, groping in the dark for his phone and turning it back on. Yep, six missed texts from That Asshole, whose name he may or may not need to change.

“hey.

hey i’m coming over.

i’ll bring u a toblerone. ;)

where do they have the really big ones?

(besides casa di corelli ayyyyyyyy)

jk i found them 20 mins.”

He snorts. Goddamn it, Corelli.

“Told you,” Arcangelo says simply, flopping on the bed next to him like he pays rent or something.

Kaz raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he replies, setting the Toblerone on the other nightstand and smiling winningly at Kaz. “You look fantastic in that sweater, by the way. You should keep it.”

Right. He’s still wearing Arcangelo’s sweater. “It’s comfortable,” he defends himself. 

“You’re so cute,” Arcangelo says affectionately, and Kaz shoves him. “No, I’m serious, is this, like, a thing that can happen more often? You in my clothes? Because I’m _beyond_ here for it.”

“I’m not opposed,” he says after a moment of considering the idea. Actually, he’s weirdly into that. More than he, as a self-professed man of fashion, probably should be. It’s just that, well… “Honestly, I’m still processing that this,” he gestures between the two of them, “happened. And it’s been a while since I’ve even kissed a guy, and I didn’t even know you were into me until this afternoon, and —”

“Wait, seriously?” Arcangelo interrupts in disbelief. “You didn’t? I mean, I may be many things, but _subtle_ has never been one of them.”

“Yeah, I mean, in retrospect…” He’s not wrong. He’s really not. 

“So, when did…?”

Kaz winces. “After I left?”

“Kaz. You can’t be serious. I make sweet, tender, passionate love to you all afternoon —”

“Dude, really?” he protests, feeling his face heat up.

“— and you don’t notice until _after the fact_?”

“In my defense, though —”

“No, I have to ask, what was it that finally tipped you off if my dick in your ass didn’t do it?”

“Goddamn it, Corelli, you want to say that a little louder, maybe? I don’t think they heard you in _Giappone_!” Kaz objects, burying his face in the blankets. Eventually, he mumbles through the mound of fabric and down: “Lexy and Gottlieb basically told me I was being a dumbass.”

“Is that seriously how you found out?” Arcangelo asks, amusement in his voice. “Like, I’m honestly not trying to be an asshole about this, it’s just… do you actually pay attention to anything that happens around you, or do you just spend your days wandering around Neo Yokio, listening to a podcast while thinking about a different podcast?”

“Oh, I’m aware that I spend too much time in my own head. Aunt Agatha’s been yelling at me about it since I was six,” he says with a shrug. “Besides, I have terrible luck with relationships, so I’ve basically stopped paying attention to who is or isn’t interested.”

“You should have just dated me from the start and saved yourself the trouble, honestly,” he scoffs, but Kaz is pretty sure he actually means it.

“Modest as usual,” he says, rolling his eyes. “But, uh, about that...” He falters, trying and failing to come up with some elegant phrase to easily capture exactly what he wants to say before finally giving up. “Was this afternoon just a one-off thing, or are we going to, like, actually date, or…?”

“That’s a little scandalous, don’t you think?” Arcangelo says slowly, his words belied by the wide grin spreading across his face. “Us dating? For, like, all kinds of reasons?”

“Probably,” he says, because despite what Lexy and Gottlieb said, he’s pretty sure Arcangelo isn’t wrong. On the other hand, the more Kaz thinks about it, the more he sort of likes the idea of dating him. He’s actually been sort of okay since the Grand Prix, and they do have a ton of shared interests, and okay, yeah, the sex was fantastic. “But, honestly, who cares?”

“You busy tomorrow night?” 

“That’s how you ask someone on a date? No wonder you’re always on the bachelor board,” Kaz teases him. “No ‘hey, Kaz, do you want to get dinner sometime’, no ‘we should check out that trunk show next week’ or even ‘let’s go to the MoMA and make fun of that painting that’s just a white canvas’? Come on, give a guy something to work with.”

“Netflix and chill?” Arcangelo says casually, but he can’t keep a straight face, and they both burst out laughing.

“Absolutely not!” Kaz manages through his laughter. “I am a fucking _catch_ , goddamn it, I deserve better than a mediocre blowjob on the couch with, like, some shitty documentary on in the background.”

“As though any blowjob I gave would be less than spectacular,” he replies with mock offense. “No, but in all seriousness, I have dinner reservations for that new place Luke Silver-Greenberg was hyping on Twitter the other day, do you want to go with me?”

“I don’t think I have plans,” he says slowly. It’s not a bad choice for a first date — he’s been meaning to check that place out anyway, and if it goes badly, they can play it off as just two guys going to dinner. “But no horrendously sappy tweets until at least the third date.”

“Kazzy, babe, love of my life, I make no promises,” Arcangelo declares, probably only halfway facetious, pulling Kaz closer for snuggles.

“I’m breaking up with you,” he mumbles halfheartedly into Arcangelo’s shirt.

“But I’m pregnant,” he murmurs into Kaz’s ear, earning himself a soft kick.

“I want a divorce.”

“Is this your way of asking me to marry you? Because I accept.”

“We’ve been dating for two minutes, Ange, calm down,” Kaz laughs. “Are you staying over, or are you going home?” He’s met with silence, and he pulls away to look at Arcangelo. “What’s up?”

“You called me Ange,” he says softly, grinning like an idiot. 

“You have a long name, leave me alone,” Kaz says defensively.

“No, it’s so cute, I love it, please never call me anything else,” he exclaims.

“Never call you that again, got it.”

Arcangelo looks at him with that soft smile for a moment before shaking his head slightly. “I’ll stay here. If you can’t bear to be without me for a whole night.”

Kaz makes a face at him. “Whatever. Lose the trousers before you get too comfortable, I’m not snuggling with wool all night.”

“Babe, if you want me to get undressed, all you have to do is ask,” he teases him, and Kaz groans, shoving his face in his pillow as Arcangelo gets up to do as requested.

“You’re awful. I’m dumping you,” he says flatly, voice muffled.

“Promises, promises.”

“Just. Shut up and come back to bed.”

“As you wish,” Arcangelo fairly purrs, climbing back into bed beside him, then murmurs into his ear, “ _Princess_.”

“Good _night_ , Corelli.”


End file.
